Patterns

May 7, 2014

I was just visiting them after work to drop off some laundry and say “Hi!”. Turning into the street my parents lived, I almost drove into my father. Hastily he hid something behind his back, then threw it blindly away while simultaneously smiling and trying to steer my attention away from it. He had stopped smoking 2-3 years ago, but apparently when he went for a walk he did a cigarette or two. “Stupid addictions” I said to myself.

Thin clients. Most of you will never have worked on one. Terminals connected to a mainframe only providing the basic services. Our university had a dungeon full of them, useless to the average student, helpful for the good student, heaven for the MUD players. Zero lag, restricted environment, no dialup time restrictions. Me and Dems spend a full semester building up our Paladins in Ravenloft. The aegis breastplate from Zeus, Oblivion from Odin, quaffing potions like madmen, hammering those keyboards and disappearing into worlds formed by words, traversed by letters. North, south, west, two up, recite poster.
“Come on guys, I can’t believe you are down here again!” Nick was desperately trying to lure us away from the thin clients.

“Time for bed, and no more excuses”. The same procedure every night. Pick two and only two of your favourite toys and then we go to bed. In the meantime I clean up a bit and slip my mobile into my pocket while dialling down the screen brightness.
Yes I will sit beside you and you can hold my hand while you are trying to fall asleep. The left one please, I hardly can swipe with this giant phablet one handed and with the wrong hand.
My son is 3. About the age where they start building sentences.
In the darkness of his bedroom, while I was checking my feed and hoping he has fallen asleep, I can hear him whisper: “Let the phone down, dad…”